Browsing All Posts filed under »Rant«

Second in a lifetime movie update.

November 8, 2012

1

So, to cope with I’m-not-sure-what, I’ve been on a steady diet of caramel popcorn. Meaning, I have been haunting and making full use of PVR’s 100 bucks Wednesdays, or 160 bucks other days, and spending so much time (and money) ingesting celluloid that I have fine filmmaking leaking out of my ears. If I may […]

A Hundred and Eight

September 8, 2012

4

In the season of presidential nominations, I’m running for a few designations – Writer. Poet. Photographer. Professional describer of feelings. High-intensity leer-evaporator. Smasher of nonsense ceilings. DF Wallace Quote Generator. Multiple bell-jar defeatist. The Antoinette of Drama Queenery. The Nilgiri winds of eye-mist. The atlas of all the right spots. Perpetual leaver of aunties aghast. […]

Little Bad Girl

March 11, 2012

0

The first thing that struck me about the Guetta concert was the sheer number of pretty, young, skinny things that had come, bravely totting numbers reserved for nightclubs far away from mothers’ concerns. I was amazed. At all the gigs I’ve been to, I’ve never had this much girl company. The only thing that outshouted […]

Paging No. 7

July 4, 2011

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You will come, one day, Bright eyed, black haired, Laughing and learned, Scornful and sceptical Of my own scepticism. You will agree to go Dutch, Crave an occasional puff, And walk the right pace, And stay to my right. You will say all the right things, And ask all the right questions, And to the […]

Eighty Nine

July 2, 2011

0

Tell me things I don’t know. Tell me things I haven’t heard. Don’t tell me sins come in sevens, Or that pain is a travesty called heartbreak. Don’t tell me I have hours to kill, But only seconds to count, Or that the early bird gets the worm, And the second mouse gets the cheese. […]

Eighty Eight

May 26, 2011

2

If I were a boy, I’d save the world like Superman, My superpower would be An actual attention span, I’d start with a bath and clean underwear, And I’d iron my own button downs – For me to later tear. I’d rescue leftovers From eternal refrigeration, And if not earn, I’d at least buy myself […]

Bury the hatchet?

November 12, 2010

1

Or bury the friend?